


A clockwork finch that flies no longer

by Apocalyptic_Alpaca



Series: The weather's acting weird [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Background story, Budding Romance, But Not For Long!, Calimport, Cormyr, F/F, Gen, Genasi, Mentions of Violence, Minor Character Death, Princes of the Apocalypse, Suzail, What Did You Expect, Will Add as I go, elemental dissarray campaign, meet the crew!, mentions of assault, the troupe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apocalyptic_Alpaca/pseuds/Apocalyptic_Alpaca
Summary: As I listened to the town crier on a square in Waterdeep I wondered, how did I even get here? Were it not for the term "Dessarin Valley" having been yelled, I would surely have walked past the busy square. And yet here I was, agreeing to a seemingly pointless adventure to resolve a bandit problem plagueing a well-used trade route for a stuck-up noble. Well. At least the Elven companion was hot?Or, the background story I wrote for my Air Genasi called Siliva Gale.





	1. Calimport

The first eleven years of my life I lived at the borders of Calimport. The outskirts of the Shackles Ward, in the Qhibal Sabban was where my mother and I shared a house.

My mother was a strict woman who had endured great pain in her childhood, and birthing me, a tall, blue-skinned girl in a region full of shorter, dark skinned people had not lessened that burden. She brought me up the way she had brought up herself. A distaste for luxury and distrust of men. I was to always speak the truth, even if it would pain me. When she realised I had a knack for dancing and acrobatics, she forced me to hone those skills and train relentlessly. Even with my poor background, if I showed enough skill and mesmerized the right crowds, I maybe wouldn’t be scorned by the nobles who thought themselves so much better. So begun my daily training. 

After I'd helped my mother in the mornings by fetching the water, I would dance in the little court behind our hut. I loved the way the sunlight seemed to bounce off my skin, the never-ending breeze around me keeping me cool. The neighbours had soon grown accustomed to my dancing, and often cheered me on by playing their favourite instruments as accompanying music. After lunch,  I'd usually play with a neighbouring girl named Jasmal. She was greatly interested in music, and badgered the neighbours about showing her their instruments. Our favourite place to go was the house of an old brewer named Khemed. In his pastime he made wooden instruments out of old, broken barrels. Jasmal adored him since he let her use all the percussion instruments as she pleased. His hearing was already too far gone for the sound to bother him.

His showpiece was a large harp that fascinated me to no end. How such ethereal sounds came out of an instrument made of simple wood and animal guts intrigued me, and Khemed soon noticed my interest. He was clearly happy somebody took interest in his masterpiece, and even offered to teach me how to play a lyre - a smaller, portable version of the harp he had. However much I asked, the harp was too precious for me to touch yet, he said.

In the evenings I took the clothes of the people in our small neighbourhood and washed them by a well nearby. At those times, I liked to take a peek at the entertainment district. I’d see people of all ages and backgrounds there. Poor beggars hoping to catch the attention of nobles who’d come to enjoy themselves, various entertainers showing their skill, nobles looking for a sultry woman to take to closed-off rooms. Though the scarcely-dressed men and ladies parading around were all quite beautiful, what stood out the most to me were the similar tattoos they had on their lower backs. They quite looked like the one my mother had. A few times I tried to talk to one of the ladies, but was always quickly shooed off by irritated looking men who seemed to be keeping way too close of an eye on those ladies. They seemed like guard dogs preventing them from escaping.

\---

A certain Saturday midday had me practicing alone by the well where I often washed the clothes. Jasmal had apparently started taking lessons in the Sabban centre, or so her father had told me when I had asked him. I did not like the man. He was always angry with his wife and my friend, and we often heard shouting until deep into the night. Since the beginning of those lessons, I would barely see Jasmal anymore, and when she returned home she was often very quiet and sleepy, and sporting bruises the origin of which she wouldn’t tell me. I didn’t like seeing Jasmal like that, but I could hardly go against her father. He was a short-tempered man working in house repairs and seeing him carry huge logs and stones with such ease every day I did not need to guess what he was capable of in a moment of anger. However fast I was, I wouldn’t go against someone who knew where I lived. So I settled with just playing alone during the day. When I visited Khemed, he too seemed worried about Jasmal.

Not having Jasmal around to help me with my dance routines, I tried out new moves based on what I came up with when I sneaking through the entertainment district. I didn’t like being in plain sight there. The later it was, the more nobles would strut around, and I preferred avoiding them all the same, especially since many of them were drunk around that time. Apparently, drunk nobles had no restraints against hitting the local people when it pleased them, and groping entertainers in the streets. Using my natural light weight, I’d jump from the crates onto second-story ledges, and balance along the streets. A view from above gave me the opportunity to quickly spot any guard that would otherwise try to drive me off. I kept an eye out for a sight of Jasmal, but I had yet to see her.

Putting the balancing to practice in a dance movement, I tried to balance myself on the tip of one of my feet, while the other hovered behind me. I noticed that bringing my leg closer to my body would make me spin faster, and the world around me would turn blurry. I closed my eyes to enjoy the tingly feeling in my stomach the twirling brought, and as such did not notice a man approach me.

“Well colour me surprised. An Air Genasi in the flesh, dancing in the back alleys of Calimport! I heard your race preferred to live in solitude? What are you doing here? Are you part of a troupe, my dear?”

My eyes shot open and, startled, I almost fell. With a few quick steps, I moved further away from him while regaining my balance. The man who had spoken to me was a smaller, fatter man with ashen skin and an impressive moustache. He smiled jovially in my direction, and even though I was wary of him I felt myself calm down a bit.

It was the way the sunlight scattered in a mesmer of rainbow-coloured light when I danced that attracted his attention, he said. The way the crystals behind my ears reflected the light was exceptional. I didn’t understand what he meant. Did he… want to take the crystals? But they grew from my head? Couldn’t he just buy them off a market somewhere? As such, I told him what I thought. The crystals growing behind my ears were mine, thank you very much. If he really wanted them, I would redirect him to the nearest jeweller.

The man chuckled deeply. It seemed I had misunderstood. He wanted me to dance for him. I was no dancer, though. I was still only learning. What would he need an eleven year-old girl dancing for? Then I realised – maybe he was somebody who took children off the street to sell them somewhere! It happened enough in the poorer Sabbans of our ward, so maybe they’d come to take children here?

He spoke again, but I was too deep in thought to grasp what he had said, and when he moved closer to me, I grew scared and ran away. I sprinted to the nearest cabin, jumped from the windowsill to the roof and fled. The fat little man was too slow to follow me, and soon I could not hear nor see him anymore.

\---

Returning home, I told my mother about the man I had encountered. I expected her to scold me for having spoken to a strange man, but instead she reprimanded me for not having taken the opportunity. Obviously, though it had not been obvious to me at all, he had been a circus leader of some sort and had offered me a place to dance if I performed well for him. I was to immediately find the man and apologise to him. She prayed that he would not be offended and would still offer me such an opportunity. I did not understand. Did my mother want me to leave? I asked her why she’d want me to go.

The angry frown on her face changed to a tired expression I didn’t see often. My mother, once a beautiful woman, or so the neighbours liked to whisper, wore a permanent scowl on her face. I suspected it to be partially because of the many scars marring her face, but there were very few times I’d see my mother making a face that didn’t look angry. Right now, she looked almost… sad. She seemed resigned, and the words she spoke were softer than the harsh tone she usually used.

“My dear Siliva, I do not know how long I can keep you in this life. Though I did not ask for you to be born, I still hold you too dear to my heart. Your mother is tired, Siliva. The life I am leading now is surely one you will lead yourself, if you stay in this wretched place. What that man is offering you is a way out. A way to encounter the world and find your own place and worth. I want the best for you, and that’s impossible if you stay here.”

The words stung. Though I understood what she meant, it would also mean leaving my mother, leaving Jasmal and Khemed, probably never to return. I wanted to hug my mother, to tell her I’d never leave her, not like my father had done. I wanted to tell her that I’d work harder so she wouldn’t be so tired, I’d even help around the house..! When I looked up from my feet, she had already risen from the chair and returned  to her work.

Begrudgingly, I set to find the man I had run away from. He was not by the well, and I had half a mind to just turn around and say I hadn’t been able to find him. Because if he had left the residential areas… he had probably returned to the busy streets which by now would be filled with people. The pain in my mother’s voice earlier made me continue. The man was hard to find in the crowd, but when I climbed to a higher vantage point, I quickly spotted his round form. From up here he kind of looked like a ball… certainly with all those flashy colours he wore! I couldn’t help the giggle that left my mouth. I approached the man when he was alone, off to the side of the streets, looking at vendor stalls. I steeled my nerves and spoke.

“I am sorry. I did not know what you wanted from me, and got scared. Since you are a little fat man I thought running away would get me away from you, and it did. But my mother told me you could help me.”

The man looked taken aback by my words, but after a nervous chuckle he smiled again. “Ah, the pretty dancer from this midday. I certainly do wish to offer you a place in my troupe, but you seem not happy about that yourself. And though you danced quite beautifully before, you must understand I do not simply accept any dancer in my troupe… I see great potential in you, young lady, but that means you must prove that I’m not mistaken.” I nodded. A display of my arts, as he had asked earlier - that I could do. He brought me to a slightly emptier square, where he payed a flutist a couple of unarche to play me a song. I started with my usual routine, the typical Calishite moves I had copied off the exotic dancers I often saw. To bring some variety into the dance, I decided to add in my recently discovered twirling moves, taking more and more space on the square. Though it was already late in the evening and there was no sunlight to be reflected off my crystals, I knew the glow of the fires lighting the vicinity made my crystals glow red, and hoped the spinning would bring out that colour. I ended my performance by spinning around for the final time, and dropped to the ground in a split. Exhilarated because of the performance I just gave, I look around. The crowd that had formed during my dance erupted in cheers, and though the amount of people scared me a bit, the praise made me smile. I looked over to the short man. He was sporting a huge grin, eyes almost proud. He introduced himself as Helm, and I gave him my name.

“Well, Siliva, I will gladly welcome you into my troupe.”

\---

When I returned home with the news, my mother wasted no time on her decision. Go with the man, she said. Go, and never come back, because you will live a better life than you ever would here. I left, never to see her again. I found out about her death when I was sixteen. By then, the memories of her were already fading. I had not seen her since I was eleven, and had come to see the troupe I travelled with as my new family. Though I did not cry for her death, I felt guilty for having left her. And with the guilt came anger towards my father, who had left my mother after using her to spread his seed, so to speak. Had he not left her, she would not have crumbled under the pressure of raising a child alone. She would not have lived in poor conditions, shunned for having birthed such a strange creature, forced to take the lowest of jobs to still barely sustain her and her daughter. I wondered if he even knew of her death. I wondered if he had even known her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! If you arrived at the end of my story, congratulations! You are one of the first to read this would-be BGS, except for the friends I shoved this story in the face, that is.
> 
> This is the first story I have ever publicly posted (except if you count my answer on one of the Tumblr prompts floating around, but that one was barely 700 words long). I am thinking of, when I finish the whole BGS for Siliva, adding snippets of the real campaign, if I can nicely fit them in stories. Wouldn't be much fun to read "You try to attack. You miss. The enemy attacks. They miss. You attack again, you do damage" and so forth. Let me know if you'd be interested?
> 
> Also I would love to hear any critique you have - be it good or bad. The bad thing about proof-reading your own stories is that you know what you meant to write, so you don't find the unlogical sentences.
> 
> I hope you had fun reading this!


	2. The troupe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Away from the big city, Siliva gets to know the rest of Faerun. But more importantly, the other troupe members who she will spend her time with.

The troupe I joined wasn’t particularly big. Soon after joining, I befriended a halfling acrobat named Kithri who seemed just as blunt as me and bore a dislike for aristocrats just as big as mine. Though, she did warn me, since a big part of our stays in cities relied on the hospitality of those nobles, I was to behave in their company. When we were in private, it was absolutely okay to gossip about them, she promised me. Kithri and I often practiced together. I was fairly competent in acrobatics and tumbling myself, so Helm wondered if we could perhaps make an act for two tumblers. Since I weighed relatively little, Kithri was able to do certain manoeuvres with me. Sometimes I wondered if Kithri wasn’t just leading me on. Surely a woman of her age had better things to do than to hang out with a child. But she assured me, after chastising me for calling her old, that I was more fun to talk to than those other “boring adults”. I suspected that, deep in her heart, Kithri was just as much a child as I was.

\---

Rhogar was a thirty five year old Dragonborn beast tamer. He was large, imposing, taciturn, and scared me out of my wits for at least the first six months after I joined the troupe. Helm, however, always greeted him like an old friend. He’d found Rhogar in Eshpurta about three years ago, he said. I asked him if he was collecting us like exotic animals, but he waved me off. Even though Rhogar frightened me, I was still very curious about him, and so I often tried to stealthily follow him to see what he was doing. I should have known that even though I was able to roam around busy streets without really being noticed, that wouldn’t mean I could follow a man already wary about his surroundings undetected. Yet, he did not comment on me following him around and spying on his activities. I learned that though he looked scary and dangerous, the care he had for his animals rivalled that of a mother for her child. One day, a young wolf noticed my scent and happily came up to me, nuzzling my hand for me to pet him. The wolf had, however, exposed my hiding place, and soon I had an adult Dragonborn looming over me.

“You are lucky to have little Silverclaw here trusting you so quickly.” His voice boomed, but its tone was softer than I would have expected.

“He’s cute,” I uttered, “I didn’t dare approaching your animals because you look so scary, mister Rhogar.” His face didn’t change, but he seemed to have turned sad.

“I am sorry about that, little one. I’m afraid I can’t do much about that.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay, mister Rhogar. I used to know a man in my neighbourhood. He looked like a completely normal human, but his words were always mean and he was always angry with his family. I much rather prefer a mister like you, who looks scary but acts nice.” A heavy, clawed hand descended on my head and as I squawked, undignified, my hair was ruffled as if I were a little kid.

\---

Stor Tidal was the first Genasi I had encountered, beside myself that is. He was, quite obviously, the water variety, with his hair flowing around him like waves, his voice having an echo-y tone to it, and his skin and hair colour making him look like he was just a sea wave come to life. I wondered if, as an air Genasi, I looked like a breeze come to life. He taught me how to speak and read Primordial. He’d called it a disgrace that I couldn’t speak the language of my ancestors. How uncivilised of me to never even have had a proper education. He would make sure I would at least learn the basic manners that a girl of my heritage should know. I called him a big, fat, stuck-up noble who was no better than a pile of manure. He was so taken aback that I easily ran away.

Later on, Helm approached me and told me that even though Stor and I had had two very different upbringings, we had lived very different lives so we ought to take each other’s opinions in mind. Of course we would think differently, but that did not mean that I was uncivilised, nor that he was just an arrogant jackass. I couldn’t help but snicker at Helm’s description of Stor, and so I reluctantly agreed to try and talk things out with Stor.

I had to admit that Stor was a brilliant man. Though he couldn’t stop the surprise in his voice every time I didn’t know something that was so obvious in his eyes, he was very passionate about his teaching and I managed to get sucked into that enthusiasm. It didn’t take me very long to start liking the Primordial language, and babble in a semi-common-primordial mix every time we practised. Outside of teaching though, Stor was a talented singer who played his own accompanying music. He seemed to flourish in the presence of aristocratic guests when we visited a particularly rich city, using his melodic voice to catch the attention of the wealthiest amongst them, quickly earning their trust and a place for us to stay. In a way, I guessed, it was his way of caring for the troupe.

\---

Ouss joined the troupe not long after I turned fifteen. As an Aarakocra, he was beautiful to look at; humanoid, but with the sightly beak and plumage of a buzzard; but it was obvious something horrible had happened to him. Large gashes on his left wing, not yet fully healed, impeded his feathers from growing back, and so he was crippled to the ground. Above that, he seemed to have had an injury to the head, because his memory was hazy, his speech slightly slurred, and his temperament dangerously precarious. We encountered him in a small village near the Star Mounts, where he had left the monks who had cared for him until then. The Star Mounts were rumoured to house not only scattered groups of Aarakocra, but also one of their sworn enemies, a great green dragon. Surprisingly, Ouss showed no animosity towards Rhogar, who himself was a green Dragonborn.

Ouss did remember he used to be exceptionally good at airborne archery, though any practice of that sort had flown out of the window by now. And so he had settled on his second set of impressive skills: cooking. That was how we had encountered Ouss. The night was dreary when we stopped in Noanar’s Hold, a village Helm said he had often visited. The way there had been cold and rainy, and we hurried to enter the White Hart Inn for a warm meal. The meal we were served was certainly warm, but better, it was divine. Helm inquired after the cook, and was told that it was an Aarakocra who had been looking for a job after he’d left the monastery that had cared for him. His food was certainly impressive, the innkeeper had said, but his wing was often in the way in the kitchen, and he had already broken multiple plates in fits of anger. Such a shame it was, but they would probably let him go. Helm, who always enjoyed good food, visibly perked up at that. The following day had a grumpy Aarakocra introducing himself to our group, saying he was temporarily joining us, until his wing would fully heal, and he could fly off again. He hated being stuck in one place, and so trudging along with a troupe was the lesser of two evils, he explained.

His wing did not heal. The poisonous breath of the green dragon had probably burned away any sort of restorative tissue in the flesh, Rhogar hypothesized. Unless an antidote had been applied immediately after contact with the poison, the wounds would never fully heal. Ouss, realising his wing would stay crippled for his foreseeable future, was crushed by the idea of never flying again. Many nights would have him drunk, lamenting about how he’d never again feel the crisp air pushing his body up, soar amidst the mountaintops, have water cling to his feathers after flying through a raincloud. However he bemoaned his depressing state, he made his suffering sound almost poetic.  
Though I admittedly understood Ouss was in pain, I did not know why Helm allowed the Aarakocra to stay. Ouss was worsening with the moment, unhelpful and merely complaining his days away. It was a waste of Helms’ benevolence! He hadn’t had to prove himself, easily welcomed into the troupe because Helm was a glutton. And yet Ouss had the nerve to mope around, forego his cooking tasks and be a bother in everybody’s behind.

I could not stand it any longer. I confronted him on a third-day’s night, when he had not yet drunk himself into oblivion. The wind blustered outside, violently howling between the treetops, and I felt myself grow restless alongside it. I wanted to calmly explain my displeasure to him, I really did. But the storm outside fuelled my growing anger and before I knew I was shouting at him to stop his childish behaviour and do something with his miserable life. A gust of wind blew open the tent flaps and rushed inside, blowing Ouss over the chair he had been sitting on. And then, as sudden as a bolt of lightning, the wind stopped, and with it the frustration that had been broiling within me. Before Ouss could utter another word, I left the room.

The next morning, I awoke to a crumpled letter on my bed-end with a feather attached. Having been blown away by the wind the night before had reminded him of the harsh weather he was used to before, Ouss had written. However comfortable he had gotten, leading a lazy ground-dweller’s life was not what his heart wanted. So he had finally decided to leave, to try and find a temple that could heal his wounds or perhaps a magical mechanic that could craft a replacement for his wing. To say I was happy would be a lie. I was relieved that Ouss had finally gotten some of his thoughts together and resumed his life, but I worried about my temper from the previous night. Would I lose myself like that every time somebody got on my nerves?

\---

By the time I turned eighteen, I thought our troupe would remain the small group of five we had been since Ouss had left two years before. However, Helm had a surprise waiting in Urmlaspyr. The city, once plagued by the Shade enclave, was now again flourishing and brimming with life. Unlike most city visits, Helm did not go straight for the Inn’s district, but rather stopped in front of an imposing library. Stor, the ever studious scholar he was, rushed inside with the notion of ‘so many books he had planned to look up’. Kithri decided to stay outside since she had no interest in dusty old books. Which left Rhogar and me slowly following Helm into the library. Helm seemed to have been here before, because he strode in purposefully and went straight for a room in the back of the library. The secretary let us in with the message that the head librarian would soon arrive.

The head librarian’s office looked like a mix of a museum room and cleric’s office. The walls were adorned with various religious symbols, as well as ancient tomes and a variety of simple weapons. The centrepiece was a long stick with what looked like a sickle attached on one end, which held a floating crystal. I had never seen such a weird weapon. Most travellers I had met carried around simple swords or bows. Wanting to take closer look, I walked towards it until a certain symbol drew my attention. The pair of white wrists bound by a red cloth representative of Ilmater brought me back to memories of following my mother into a temple of Calimport, hearing the wailing of the sick and hurt, the whispered prayers to thank Ilmater for taking on people’s pain. I had been spoiled by the entertainer’s life. I had not felt hunger since I was eleven, and had been blessed with a healthy body without sicknesses. The thought of having forgotten Ilmater’s kindness clenched my heart, and the memory of having blamed Ouss for his suffering instead of praying for him added to the guilt. I was about to sink to my knees for a small prayer when a low, husky voice made me turn around.

“My, my, what a surprise to see you here, Helm! I see you’ve brought some companions along as well. Why don’t you take a seat so I can serve you some tea.”

In the doorway stood a woman as beautiful as she was mysterious. A dark brown skin concealing wrinkles but lighting up her silver grey sclera. A full head of curly hear making her seem even taller than she already was, and slightly concealing… horns? No, it was a single horn. And behind her legs appeared a dark green, scaly tail. What was she?

The moment her eyes turned on me, a chill ran down my back. I felt unsettled, but her alluring voice managed to melt that away.

“Why hello there. My name is Myra, and welcome to my library.”

\---

Though I realised Myra’s knowledge could easily level with Stor’s, I did not know why Helm would invite a researcher into the troupe. My question was quickly answered by Stor, who informed me that Myra had such an extensive knowledge on all manners of religions and religious symbols, even with her demonic race she was held highly in the eyes of the templars of Oghma. And Helm just so happened to be on his way to Suzail, where one of Oghma’s largest temples was located. Still, Stor did not know why Helm particularly needed Myra, but he speculated that Helm perhaps needed a spokesperson or a mediator. It wouldn’t be the first time Helm had made promises but hadn’t kept them, and used his friends to solve his disputes.

This piqued my interest. Helm, who I saw as a jovial, good-natured man, making empty promises? It seemed unlikely, but then again, I knew very little about him. I had never thought of him as secretive before, but now that I actively focussed on his mannerism, I noticed Helm was careful not to say anything of importance about himself. Kithri, who had been in the troupe the longest, said he had just found her one day, and invited her into his troupe. There were other members then, which had all retired before I had become part of it. Rhogar told a similar story. Helm had offered his kindness in return for a good show. Were it not for him, Rhogar would have wasted away in Eshpurta, the city he had lived in. The relentless mockery and harassment he endured because of his race had darkened his thoughts until Helm had come along and realised his talent for animal handling. Their stories reminded me of how I had come to join the troupe. Had it not been for Helm, we all would have wasted away in poverty, negligence and torment.

In the end, it was Myra who informed me of Helm’s reasons.

“Ah, Helm. For so long he is trying, yet he feels he will never undo his wrongdoings. He used to be a hired killer, you see. Relishing in the kick, and boasting about his skills. Took part of my horn, even. He was quite the criminal. ”

I was too stunned to speak. A person, no, a man I had considered family for the past seven years had been a cold-blooded killer. And Myra seemed very aware of the fact, yet she was at perfect ease with him.

“Ah, but Hoar was quick to punish him. Helm made the mistake of befriending a poor boy who’s district official he was supposed to kill. It turns out Helm wasn’t the only hired killer who murdered for fun. He said he caught the culprit in the act of cutting out the boy’s eyeballs. He couldn’t even make his namesake true. Couldn’t even protect the boy he had befriended. And the other killer excused himself by saying the boy was meant to die anyway. Poor, without friends or family. Nobody would miss him.”

“Well, Helm had quite the eye-opener that day. He has sworn off hurting since then. I hear he even visited an enchantress to put a spell on him to impede him from ever holding a weapon again.”

I couldn’t stop the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes, and quickly wiped at them in the hope Myra hadn’t seen them. But she smiled softly and took my hand into hers.

“Now, now, little one. What a kind heart you have to be moved by that story. So quick to forgive his past mistakes. Come with me, so I can help calm you down.”

And I let her lead me to her chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look at me, posting chapters about three weeks after I promised 'em :D I'm just glad I finally got it out, because thanks to all the writing assignments I had the last few weeks, sitting behind my computer to write gave me war flashbacks -_-; 
> 
> Something entirely different; Myra was actually the first DnD character I played! So I'll post her BGS as an extra work, just to get some background information on her if you're interested. It's quite short so easy to read I think.
> 
> Besides that, I kinda had to finish my BGS for my DM so that means the rest of the chapters will quickly follow, and then you can get rid of me and my bad time-management :)


	3. Suzail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troupe is on their way to Suzail; a large, prosperous city in Cormyr. Will Myra be able to solve Helm's problems? Will Kithri and Siliva survive the overabundance of nobles? Will the city leave its mark on the troupe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like my writing style has changed a bit since the first two chapters, but that might also just be the actual text - lots of conversations in this chapter! also, drama. lots 'o drama.  
> this chapter is also way longer than the previous two, almost twice as long as both of them combined. a looooot of things happen in Suzail

Walking through the city gates of Suzail felt like going back home. The city was huge, filled with street vendors, shouting for attention to their wares, and shopgoers strolling around. The bustle was so unlike the villages and small cities we usually visited, and it reminded me of the liveliness of Calimport. Kithri’s eyes were glittering at the stalls before her – so much food! So much jewellery and coloured cloth! She begged Helm for her money pouch and quickly left to exchange her coins in the local currency. I silently snickered at her agitation, and at Stor’s face, displeased as he was at her over-eagerness. Unlike most villages, nobody batted an eye at the sight of us. The joys of a large, inter-specied city. Though it did mean we would have to hand out leaflets and call out for attention on street corners to gather a crowd for a show. I turned around to see what the others were doing and noticed Helm and Myra in a heated argument a bit further down the road. Myra seemed to be vehemently pointing at a more luxurious part of the city, where large, ornamented buildings stood divided by a broad, clean boulevard. Helm however kept shaking his head, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I decided their argument was no business of mine and looked around for Rhogar. Stor noticed my searching gaze and answered curtly.

“He’s still outside. The guards had some trouble with all the supposedly dangerous animal he would bring in.”

“Shouldn’t we help him then? What if he’ll get in trouble? What if he’ll get detained?” The panic rose in my voice as I envisioned Rhogar, captured again simply because of his race and profession.

“Do not concern yourself with such worthless problems. Rhogar can handle himself just fine. All he needs to show is his proof as animal handler, and he’ll be let through.”

“And his proof is what exactly?”

“A document that Helm… usually… keeps on him…”

We both swivelled around to look at Helm and Myra, but they had seemingly left.

“ _That empty-headed beardsplitter!_ ” I swore.

“ _Watch your language, child. There is no need to be coarse because of a slight inconvenience._ ” Stor replied in Primordial, though even he started looking slightly worried.

“I think I have a vague idea where they went. Can you look for Kithri and let her know about this?”

Stor turned an irritated look on me, but sighed after only a moment. “I guess I can forego visiting the local library and help out a troupe member in need. I’ll see if I can find Rhogar after this, in case we might sway the guards with our presence.”

With a quick ‘thank you!’, I took off to the broad boulevard of earlier.

\---

The further I walked in the boulevard, the grander the houses became. Stained glass, murals adorned with what looked like real gems, and intricately cut out wooden doors showed that this street was probably one inhabited by the people I honestly did not want to encounter – nobles. A look around me confirmed it; the people wore layers upon layers of flamboyantly patterned cloth, jewellery dangling everywhere possible. As far as I knew, neither Helm or Myra where from nobility, nor did they have any business with them. I tried to recall the conversation of half a month earlier – what was the reason Myra had joined us? Ah, yes, the temple of Oghma. Helm needed her as a mediator to speak with… somebody from the temple?

Swallowing my pride, I approached a lone, walking lady. “I’m looking for the temple of Oghma. Tell me where it’s located, will you?”

Despite being about half a head smaller than me, the lady managed to look down on me. The colour of her face was quickly starting to match the fiery red of her dress, agitated as she seemingly was. “Excuse you? Can you not talk in such a crude way? I demand some respect!”

I halted any further words threatening to escape my mouth and backed off before I could sock her in the face. What was it with nobles and thinking they were so much better? “Right then, fare thee well, _toad face_.”

The lady looked confused at the guttural sounds of the Primordial and continued on her way after a last disdainful look my way. The anger swirled in my stomach before suddenly, a gust of wind blew past me and almost toppled the woman over. She scrambled to keep her skirts in place. At that, I could spare a small smile. Deciding the nobility wasn’t going to give me any answers before I actively bowed down to them, I looked around the street. Creatures with long, pointy ears and an unnatural beauty ambled along – elves or half-elves for sure. My nose twitched at the idea of talking to them; either they’d be their stand-offish selves, or they’d be about twice as arrogant as the usual nobles. I spotted a small girl, wearing a simple brown dress decorated with about a dozen bows. Hopefully she’d react better.

“Hello, little girl. I’m looking for the temple of Oghma. Do you know where it’s located?”

She turned around and gasped in delight. “Oh, your gems are pretty! They must have cost a lot!”

I was momentarily confused, but realised she must have meant the crystals behind my ears. “… yes, sure. They weren’t cheap, but they’re pretty, aren’t they? So, do you know where the temple is?”

“Oh, the temple where uncle Wyndel works?” She looked deep in thought. I had no idea who this Wyndel was, but if she knew somebody who worked there, she must have known where the temple was. She resumed speaking.

“It’s thataway! A big white building with lots of windows. There’s some sort of paper on the door…” she pointed further down the boulevard, towards a large clearing. “Can you help me? I’m supposed to go to the market to buy some special fruits, but I don’t know which stall sells them.”

“Tell you what, girlie.”

“My name’s Esvele!”

“Okay… tell you what, Esvele, I need to go help a friend of mine in that temple. But I can return soon and help you then? My friend cannot wait, I’m afraid.” Esvele pouted, but she finally nodded.

“Okay! I’ll sit here on this bench and wait for you!” She went and sat down on a copper-coloured bench, swinging her legs.

“I’ll be back soon!” I promised. Though I didn’t particularly feel like guiding a little girl around in a city I’d only arrived in this morning, I had to admit she had helped me, and very politely at that. I waved the girl goodbye and hurried further down the street.

\---

The ‘paper on the door’ turned out to be large depiction of a blank scroll. I’d never seen it before, but by its location on the front doors of the temple I assumed this was the symbol of Oghma. What a blank scroll depicted though, I had no idea. I rushed inside, gathering a few questioning looks of scholars and priests, but nobody tried to stop me. I turned a corner and caught the heated voices of Helm and another man.

“… went through the trouble of pardoning your deeds so you’d be allowed back in Cormyr, and yet you don’t think to comply to my request? Have I been too lenient on you, Helm?” A deep voice boomed, irately.

Helm’s voice was just as exasperated. “And as I’ve told you multiple times, Wyndel, I have either not heard of the people who would have such information, or they wouldn’t tell me anything in retaliation of my betrayal!”

At another set of grand, decorated wooden doors stood Helm and Wyndel, who looked impressively lean and tall next to Helm. As they noticed my presence, Wyndel turned an inquisitive glare in my direction. I ignored it and went straight to Helm.

“Finally caught up to you! Rhogar needs…”

Wyndel interrupted me before I could finish my sentence. “We are busy, woman. Make yourself scarce.”

“I’ll be out of your sight in a minute, a bit of patience never killed anyone,” I bit back. He visibly bristled at the answer. I didn’t want to bring Helm in discredit, but this city was just filled with people so full of themselves! Before Wyndel could retort, a warm hand descended on my shoulder, and a soothing voice dissipated the pressure.

“Calm down, you hotheads. Siliva, please be so kind to wait a quick minute. What we’ve come here for is quite important for both Helm and this temple. And Wyndel, don’t let yourself get so excited at mere words of a young woman. Has hot blood ever helped a leader such as yourself?”

“Lady Myra,” Wyndel greeted with a nod of the head, “You must understand the importance of what I’ve asked of Helm. The way he ignored my request for knowledge, is he not endangering and disrespecting us?”

Oh, Myra must have been quite the impressive woman if the apparent leader of this temple yielded to her.

“We have not heard of any whispers of danger for the church, Wyndel,” Myra reassured him, “as for Helm not helping you, I can assure you that is not true. You mustn’t forget he is responsible for his troupe, so he would do nothing to endanger them. If that means not interacting with his more dangerous past associates, would you blame him? None of us could ever hope to protect ourselves against murderous rogues, now could we. Well, except perhaps Rhogar…”

“Rhogar!” I exclaimed. Myra looked at me questioningly.

“Rhogar’s still outside the city gates because he can’t come in with his animals! He needs his document of proof of animal handling, which you,” I pointed at Helm, “have on you!”

“Oh, by Torm’s gauntlet, I forgot!” Helm quickly searched his pockets and procured a yellowed scroll, bound by a red lint. I was ready to take off, but again Wyndel called out.

“Wait! This woman has heard information she should not have. How can you let her go at this moment?” Myra turned a cold gaze on him.

“Do not worry yourself with such matters, Wyndel. Siliva is trustworthy.” Wyndel still looked doubtful. I mentally counted how long it would take me to the gates, and back to the broad boulevard afterwards.

“And,” I added, “Esvele is waiting on me. You wouldn’t make your niece wait all alone, would you?”

“How do you know…?” Wyndel spluttered. His momentary confusion allowed me to wave goodbye and leave.

\---

In the end, it turned out my hurried return was not that necessary. The guards had looked doubtful at Rhogar’s claim, but he had simply turned back and set up a temporary camp outside the city walls. Kithri sat in the shadow of his tent, bag full of pastries next to her, and tried to shoo off the curious animals that roamed around. Stor had procured a book from somewhere and was reading on a bench. When I arrived, sweating and out of breath of having run the whole way, the group looked up.

“Brought… the paper… found… Helm and Myra… haah, I need to work on my condition...” I gasped out. Kithri waved a lazy hand as a greeting. Stor returned to his book.

Rhogar came out of the tent, bowls of animal food in hand and a hungry-looking Silverclaw in tow. “I see you brought the document!” he proclaimed in his rumbling voice. “I must thank you, Siliva! It has been so long since we’ve entered such a guarded city, I had completely forgotten they ask proof of handling.”

I grumbled good-heartedly. “Yes, well, I ran quite the way because of your and Helm’s absentmindedness. Which reminds me. I need to leave again.”

Kithri quirked an eyebrow. “Did they ask you to return?”

“No… I have an appointment with an eight-year-old.”

Kithri snickered. “Only you, Siliva.”

\---

I did my best to not look as out of breath as I had before when I neared the bench Esvele sat on. As strict as they were with guards in this city, I’m sure they’d react strongly if a panting adult were to approach a little girl. Esvele was looking with great concentration at her fingers, which she seemed to be counting.

“Did you wait long?”

“Oh! Hello, jewel-lady. No, I was practicing my counting. My teacher said I am very smart!” She hopped off from the bench. She waved her hand in my direction, which I understood as ‘take my hand’. I slowly walked her back to the market place filled with stalls.

“Now, what was it that you needed?” Esvele took a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket.

“I need… sit… sitter… what’s sitters fruit?” she asked.

“Sitters fruit? Let me see the paper, will you.” She handed it over. The tiny list read ‘citrus fruit’, ‘mint’, and another, presumed herb I didn’t know. “Citrus fruit is what you need. We’ll find it at a fruit vendor. Do you know where you usually go?”

Cheerily, she answered. “No!”

The search for citrus fruit turned out more complicated than I expected. Back in Calimport, oranges and lemons where relatively easy to find, as they were sold by most merchants, but is seemed that in these regions, it was an expensive, imported good. Luckily, the vendor selling it also sold the mint and the ‘coriander’ Esvele needed.

“That’ll come to a total of seven falcons and three thumbs!” The vendor handed me the bag of groceries and held out his hand for money.

“Seven falcons and three thumbs… You mean to tell me this half-empty bag costs seven silver and three copper?” That price was unreasonably high. Suzail must be quite the wealthy city if its inhabitants could pay such exorbitant prices. I turned to Esvele. “Do you have a money pouch with you?” A look on her hesitant face told me enough.

“Oh no… I forgot it at home…”

I sighed in defeat. Reaching for my own pouch, I pulled out the necessary change. Luckily, I had a small amount of Cormyrian currency, when I’d exchanged some when we entered the region. As I handed it to the waiting vendor, I thought of something. “Say, I’m actually part of a troupe. If I hand you some leaflets, would you hand them out to some shopgoers? I paid quite a hefty amount here, after all.”

The vendor eyed the leaflets warily, but accepted them. “You’re performing at the Laughing Lass, I see. Good choice. They have great food, and a great atmosphere,” He remarked.

“If you want to come, I’ll make sure you get a discount,” I promised.

With Esvele in tow, I turned back towards the broad boulevard. “Do you want to return home, now that you’ve done your shopping? Or will you help me hand out some leaflets?”

“What do you mean, help? What do I have to do?” She wondered.

“Usually we either call for attention, or we work in pairs, and one person hands out leaflets while the other does a performance. I guess I could dance…”

“I want to see you dance!” Esvele’s enthusiasm was refreshing.

“Okay, kiddo. I dance, and when people stop by to watch, you hand out these papers, okay? One per person is fine,” I handed her the stack of leaflets I had on me. Looking around for a small clearing, I found somebody playing the lute, and paid him a couple of copper thumbs. “Play me something upbeat, will you?”

On a crossing of two streets, I prepared for a routine. Even as I was only stretching, people already stopped to look. I guessed I was suppler than the average Cormyrian. I would try for a ballroom-like dance, seeing as this city was filled with nobles who would probably turn up their nose at the more suggestive, exotic moves of the Calishite dances I usually did. Ballroom dances were usually danced in pairs, but I’d improvise something. As I started spinning and twirling, using my arms to move in the empty space a dance partner would normally fill, a small crowd gathered. I spotted a woman, looking enraptured by the way I was moving, and decided that I could use a dance partner after all. So when I rounded the small clearing and neared her, I took her hand and pulled her in the dance. After a startled laugh, she easily cooperated and lowered her head when I dipped her low; twirled around when I spun her. I finished by pushing her up, and she struck a pose. It was as if we’d danced countless times before! I felt exhilarated as I lowered her back to the ground.

“Thank you. I’m sorry to have pulled you into this dance without warning, but you looked quite enthusiastic,” I mentioned. She giggled slightly, and as I noticed the way her cheeks dimpled, I was struck by how cute I thought she was. “Please… come by the show this evening. I would like to see you once more.” As if on cue, Esvele appeared and handed the woman a leaflet. She looked down at the paper and smiled.

“Well, I’ll come, if you tell me your name.”

“I… My… my name’s Siliva.”

“Then I will see you tonight, Siliva,” and with a last smile, she turned around and left. Esvele pulled at my sleeve, voice slightly impatient. She must have been waiting for me to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.

“I think I want to go home now. Will you bring me back?” I nodded and took her hand once more. When I walked her towards the stately house she pointed out as her home, I remembered her uncle. I took one of the leaflets Esvele had handed back to me and scribbled down a couple of words. Then, I handed the paper over to her.

“Can you hand this to your uncle for me? Your uncle Wyndel. As soon as possible, if you will.”

“Okay! I’ll do it when he comes home this afternoon,” She turned the paper over, and read the words I had written down. “What does ‘you owe me’ mean?”

\---

The Laughing Lass was not unlike most places we set up show. In front of the tavern lay a large courtyard, which was cleared of most of its tables in the summer evening to be used as a fest hall. Helm ushered us to one of the corners, where a wooden stage stood in front of a wall covered in vines. He handed me a string of colourful paper lanterns to hang up, as the tavern owner had told him we’d only be allowed to perform if we helped with the decoration for the evening. A fair exchange, or so I’d thought, until Helm told me of all ornaments that had to be hung up. The amount of garlands and floral bouquets that had to be displayed right next to candlesticks had to be a fire hazard.

As I was staring at the compressed paper lanterns in my hands, Kithri appeared next to me, holding a box of small candles.

“How ‘bout I jump on ya shoulders, so we reach higher,” she proposed. I nodded.

“Sure would beat having to drag around a stepladder to hop on and off from.” I took the box of candles from Kithri and kneeled in front of her so she could jump on my shoulders. “You stable up there?” I inquired.

“Ya say that as if we don’t basically practice these sort ‘a moves every day!” she scoffed. I shrugged. “Whoa there! I take back my words, that shruggin’ is mighty dangerous.”

The wall was littered with small hooks to hang the garlands, hidden in between the vines. I handed Kithri one of the paper lanterns and a small candle.

“So. Any idea why this tavern apparently wants to burn their courtyard down? This number of candles cannot be fire-safe.”

“Dunno. They did say they often hold fests here in the summer, but maybe an important guest is comin’ by or somethin’,” Kithri speculated.

“You both really don’t keep up with the local politics, now do you.” Stor’s voice made me turn around, earning me a low ‘hey!’ from Kithri.

“The majority of Cormyrian noble families gather in Suzail around the beginning of summer. I’m sure every local tavern could use the extra coins rolling around.” Stor looked happy at the prospect, but Kithri and I let out an elongated groan.

“Ugh. There goes my plan to get mindlessly drunk after the show…” Kithri sighed. I handed her another lantern.

“I sure wish there was an easier way of doing all this decorating. I still have to prepare my dance routine for tonight,” I said, suddenly getting nervous. If that woman from before really came, the dance had to be perfect.

“Oh my,” Stor said with a sly smirk. “Siliva Gale, nervous about a performance? I thought you improvised your shows on the go.” I had half the mind to kick him, but experience told me that a sudden unbalanced movement would lead to Kithri toppling off my shoulders.

“Somebody special comin’ to see ya tonight?” Kithri taunted, smugness obvious in her voice. Suddenly, that kick didn’t seem so bad.

“Shut up!”

“Well, if it’s quicker work, you might want to ask Myra. She might have a few tricks up her sleeve,” Stor put up his hands as if to placate me. “I’ll go ask Helm where she is.”

\---

Myra ‘having a few tricks up her sleeve’ was quite the understatement. She and Helm arrived after about half an hour, in which Kithri and I covered barely half of the planted wall.

Looking around her, Myra rolled up her sleeves and announced; “Let me give you a hand.”

Helm snickered, and before I could wonder what was so funny, I understood. With a low murmur and a flick of her hand, Myra had procured a floating hand that started attaching the lanterns and candles that had drifted out of the box I was holding. Before long, the walls surrounding the courtyard were adorned with paper lanterns, and flowery garlands hung from one side to the other.

“Well, that takes care of business. I swear that’s all this is useful for, nowadays.” Myra was twirling a crystal in her hands.

Kithri whistled low. “You have impressive friends, Helm.”

\---

The performance in the evening was quite successful. The courtyard was filled with multiple stalls and attractions; jugglers and instrumentalists were weaving in between groups of patrons, stalls sold local foods and goods; the tavern’s band playing in the background. Even though we were far from the only performers, the crowd seemed enraptured by our performances. When Stor walked on stage and started singing, his tenor voice stopped even the band from playing, captivated as they were by his song. When he walked offstage, accompanied by deafening applause, a group of immaculately dressed half-elves waved him over to their table. He sat down at their table in such a composed manner it seemed as if he’d belonged there his whole life. Well. As long as he was happy.

Rhogar’s entrance on the stage was followed by hushed whisper, but those whisper quickly turned in delighted gasps and coos when the animals he trained appeared from various places they had been hiding in, waiting for his signal. The white tigress named Nala was surprisingly more popular than Silverclaw, who was one of the more talented animals Rhogar was raising. After Nala’s performance, where she strutted around the stage while a small lynx named Caracal jumped from her back to her head and darted between her legs, the onlookers started throwing silver falcons on the stage. Nala took it in with a taciturn look that meant she did not find those silly Suzailan habits very amusing. Caracal however, was jumping between the coins lying on the wooden floor, earning him more laughter and even the occasional piece of meat.

Kithri had taken out her acrobatic high bars and had been jumping to and from, pivoting in the air and twisting in complicated ways. When it was almost my turn to go on stage, I felt the nervousness of this noon return in tenfold. I had not yet seen the woman of earlier, but she could have been looking. What if I messed up my routine? What if I blundered in front of the whole audience? I didn’t usually feel this kind of stress before a performance, because I knew nobody in the crowd. But this time, I had specifically invited somebody… no, I had invited multiple people! Maybe Wyndel would have come as well. And if I performed poorly, would he see that as another failure on Helm’s account? And why had I chosen my Calishite dance routine? Sure, I wanted to surprise the audience, but what if they found it distasteful? Were my clothes too revealing as well?

My thoughts were churning in my head and threatened to overtake me, before a hand squeezed mine. It was the woman from before! She looked out of breath, but she was sporting a big smile.

“Ah…” I realised I did not yet know her name. “You did come!”

“I said I would, didn’t I, Siliva? Are you doing okay?”

“I’m…” I hesitated, “I’m rather nervous.”

She laughed out loud. “That I can see! You look about as jittery as a young kitten. What happened to all that confidence from this morning?”

“I suddenly realised I will be performing in front of you. I don’t want to look bad, you see?”

She nodded, but her face turned thoughtful. “You didn’t mind me this morning, though.”

“When I danced with you this morning, it felt so natural, like we’d been dancing together for our whole lives,” I admitted. “But… will you tell me your name? I think I’ll feel better if I know it.”

She blushed slightly at my words. “My name’s Lureene. Lureene Clearwood.”

I wanted to say more, but at that moment, Kithri left the stage after a round of vigorous applause. Two aides carried the bars off stage behind her.

“Blue kid! It’s yer turn!”

Well, no matter. Lureene had managed to come, and I couldn’t escape her gaze here. “Wish me luck, _beautiful_ ,” I called before climbing upstage.

Once on stage, all previous uneasiness left me. The candles on the wall behind me lit up the surroundings in a soft yellow glow, but I knew my crystals would colour a fiery red. I assumed a bent-over position on the floor, rising slowly as the beat of the music quickened. Around my hips and shoulders were shawls adorned with little bells, and every time I jolted my body along the beat, the bells chorused alongside me. It was a suggestive dance, really. It demanded attention, but not always the right kind. So when I walked offstage, I stood nervously in front of Lureene, waiting for her to say something. Instead, she took my hand, and pulled me into the crowd.

That evening was one I would remember for a long time. It was an evening of walking hand in hand with a woman I genuinely liked, with whom I could laugh and joke and stutter and stumble and I would receive the same blinding smile. It was an evening of going from stand to stand, hearing her explain the origin of the foods that were stalled out on the tables, tasting liquors called ‘cherryfire’ and ‘black bottom’, sharing a mug of Suzale. It was an evening of paying the tavern’s band to play a quickstep and continuing the dance from that morning. It was the start of something that could have been. But instead, it never would be.

\---

I was slightly tipsy when I returned that evening. Cormyr had an excellent variety of beers, ales and wines, and for once nobody stopped me from drinking them because I was ‘too young’. Didn’t they know I’d been drinking since I was ten? Khemed had never stopped me from trying his concoctions; instead he asked me how I found them and let me guess the ingredients. I was sure that if I had the right ingredients and utensils, I could brew myself a nice batch of something. 

It turned out I wasn’t the only tipsy one. Wyndel had eventually come by as well, and was now talking expressively, booze’s blush apparent on his cheeks, to a patient Myra. Now that the alcohol had smoothened out his scowl, he looked quite young; his face that of an over-eager scholar. When he noticed me, his eyes squinted slightly before recognition dawned on him.

“You! You invited me. It was a great show.” His speech was subtly slurred, as if he was reasonably used to the effect of alcohol. 

Myra turned a curious look on me. “You invited him? I’d have thought you wouldn’t want to see him again, with how you ran away from him this morning.”

“How rude. I ran away because I had to help Rhogar, and he kept stopping me.” I turned up my nose, though mostly for show.

“You shouldn’t have listened in on my conversation with Helm then,” Wyndel scolded.

“You were holding a conversation in the middle of a corridor! I’d hardly call that listening in, more so overhearing,” I rolled my eyes. Before Wyndel could respond, Myra slammed a hand on our shoulders.

“You are bickering like little children. I know I’m older than both of you combined, but I feel grey hairs growing just listening to the two of you.” Myra sighed. “Be good, will you? I need a drink.”

We watched her walk away, in the direction of the tavern. 

“So,” Wyndel started again, “I apparently owe you.”

I had to snap my mind back to process what he said. “You… do..? Right, you do. Seven silver pieces and three copper in total.”

He grimaced. “Why, pray tell, would I owe you such an amount?”

“Esvele lent some money from me. Kiddo sure has the swindling thing down. Acting all doe-eyed and asking me to accompany her to the market to buy some expensive fruit, and then she just ‘happens’ to have no money on her.” I complained, though I didn’t really mean it.

“Oh, Esvele owes you. You could have just asked her mother for the money when you dropped her off.”

“And look like a beggar? I didn’t think so. Besides, I don’t particularly like the whole ‘rich people’ thing.”

“I am a ‘rich people’,” Wyndel conceded.

“Yes, well, I don’t particularly like you either.” Wyndel guffawed at my words. I continued. “I’m still warming up to you.”

He grumbled, but eventually took out his money pouch. “I feel like I’m paying off a scammer,” he sighed, after he handed me the coins.

“I wish! Don’t worry. I’ll buy you a drink with the hard-earned money I just received.”

Wyndel raised an eyebrow. “Hard-earned? Also, I really don’t think I should drink any more. I’m already pushing the societal limits.”

“What are you, weak?”

He glared. “Try me, woman.”

\---

The following tenday was a blissful experience. Deciding Suzail was big enough to accustom us for a few more days, Helm made an agreement with a few taverns so that we could perform freely. After most performances, Lureene would take me on trips through her favourite neighbourhoods, showing me landmarks and shops. Conversations with her never became boring, and we happily joked around about the silliest of things. I learned she worked in the fishery of her parents, and she helped prepare the fish for the local taverns and restaurants. Eel was particularly popular in Suzail, and when I told her I’d never eaten it before, she took me to Brundlae’s Best to taste some. The local specialty was live eel with hot sauce, and though the spicy sauce certainly sounded scrumptious, I had my doubts at the raw eel. 

“We prepare the eel specially so no toxics are left in the body. We carry special permits, so you don’t have to worry a bit!” Lureene assured me. I took a bite. It was indeed as delicious as Lureene had made it out to be. The plate was empty before I knew it.

When I walked her home that evening, she hesitated at her doorway.

“Tomorrow evening… might be difficult for me to come. I’m afraid a literal boatload of fish will be arriving tomorrow, and it will take at least a day to clean them all.” She looked down at her feet, before rising her head again. “But… I will be free on the tenth-day. There will be a festival that day, so if you would like…” she hesitated.

“I would love to see the festival with you.” I replied, hoping that was what she meant. Her smile told me enough. She quickly spied around her and, deciding the coast was clear, kissed me lightly. 

I felt like I was walking on air when I returned.

The mood did not last long, however. About a street away form the inn we were staying at, I was approached by a human man, dressed in dark blue robes, confidence dripping off his face. Next to him stood a burly man in leather armour. A personal guard, perhaps. I tried to ignore the man and walk past him, but he lashed out and clenched a hand around my arm.

I removed my arm from his tight grip, glaring at him. “What do you want,” I asked. Now that I saw his face up close, I recognised it. He must have been attending some of our shows before.

He chuckled deeply, though there was little laughter in his voice. “What a temper! You are one fine specimen. Truly something to show off.”

“I’m not a showpiece. Now what do you want.” I had little patience for this man, and the more I talked to him, the more my stomach was starting to churn. Something was off. In the distance, a sudden bout of thunder crackled along the sky.

“Right to the point, I see.” He leered at my face. “I’ve come to see your performances every day. The dance of all those days ago… it was quite suggestive. Something tells me you are quite used to seducing men like me.”

“I… I do not. Do such things. How can you…” Was this man really implying what I thought he was? This was exactly the wrong kind of attention I did not want to receive. The man did not see my incredulous face, and continued his speech.

“I can offer you a life of riches. An exotic woman such as yourself should not be bound to an insignificant troupe like you are now. Here, take this bag of money, and present yourself at my estate tomorrow. The Alsevir House will gladly welcome you.” He handed me a purse, heavy with coins.

I couldn’t believe my ears. Irritated, I slammed the purse back in the man’s hands. “I don’t need your money. I’m perfectly happy in my troupe, and I have no desire to join your house to be shown off like an exotic animal.” I tried to push past him, but his burly companion blocked my way.

“That is no way to speak to someone like me. You are lucky I’m so interested in you, or I wouldn’t have let this slide.” The man walked away, as if I had been the one holding him up. I spat in his general direction, knowing it was a petty move.

\---

The ninth-day passed without meeting the strange man, though I did not go out of my way to search him. Rather, I mostly stayed inside, helping Stor with his instrumental practice. Helm had offered me the tenth-day off as long as I helped around all day the ninth. I didn’t mind it at all, since helping Stor meant practicing my lyre. After that, I fetched food for Rhogar’s animals. They were frolicking around in a small meadow at the city borders. After yesterday’s thunder, I had expected it to rain, but the sky was as blue as it had been for all previous days. Strange. The weather was acting rather weird.

The morning of the tenth-day, I arrived at Lureene’s house at the toll of ten hours. She stepped outside, clasped my hand in hers, and pulled me to the festival. The festival was way more lively than the evening fests I had gone to the past tenday. It was bustling with children, and stands with activities littered the streets. Excited as Lureene and I were, we rushed from stall to stall, winning ourselves sweet treats and small trinkets. After having eaten some street food for lunch, we found ourselves in front of a mysterious tent. The sign in front of it read ‘magical items foretold in your future’.

I turned to Lureene. “Do you believe in this future-reading stuff?”

She chuckled. “I don’t. But it’s often quite entertaining. And look, five copper thumbs is a reasonable price.”

Deciding it was worth a shot, we entered the tent. Inside, colourful rugs were hanging from the walls and candlesticks cast flickering shadows across them. An old man sat down at a low table, dressed in a tattered, purple garb. He looked well over seventy.

“Sit down,” came his breathy voice, and we did as we were told.

“I can see the future that lays in front of you. A budding bond, waiting to develop. But…? The mud… you will fail to the mud.”

I raised my eyebrows at Lureene. She shook her head, not understanding the old man’s words any more than I did.

“Such sadness to come for you. In dark times, you must remember your bonds.” The old man opened his eyes, and a yellow glow lingered in them. He put a small bird in front of us.

“This small finch will show you your bonds are still moving, even in the stormiest of times.” Lureene picked up the bird and studied it more closely.

“This is a …”

The man interrupted her. “That’ll be five copper.”

Once outside, I asked Lureene what she had wanted to say.

“This is a mechanical toy. Intricate clockwork. Well worth the five copper, I’d say.” She passed the toy to me.

Once I held the tiny bird in my hands, it started flapping its wings, as if to fly away. “Wha..! What’s happening!” We stared quizzically at the bird, before Lureene started laughing.

“Oh! That’s what he meant!” she exclaimed. “See, when the clockwork moves because of the wind, its wings start moving. So that’s why in stormy times, the bond would still move.”

“That’s just a dirty play on words,” I whined.

“Yes, but look. That means that if you keep it on you, our bond will always be growing, will it not?” She beamed in my face.

“I guess that is one way my race is useful,” I admitted after a moment. “This never ending breeze will make for one muscled bird.”

\---

The moment Lureene left my sight, everything went wrong. 

She had been called out by a former shop associate who wanted to talk business with her. She looked in my direction, face regretful, but I assured her I’d just walk a bit further and browse some wares.

I passed stands displaying bakery goods with tantalising aromas. Stands selling multiple alcoholic beverages, arranged by strength. A butcher selling meat pasties with exotic herbs, as well as pieces of fresh pork. I walked past a dark alleyway when I was grabbed from behind. Hand on my mouth and muscular arm holding my body so I couldn’t move, I was dragged into the alleyway. The alley seemed to lead to a small shack to hold the butcher’s pigs. I was put on the ground roughly, when the arrogant man from before appeared before me. 

“Finally you’re alone. Have you thought about my offer yet?” His tone was belittling, as if I was a child that didn’t understand what was best for them.

“I have thought how about you’re an absolute waste of my time,” I bit through clenched teeth. “Have I not made it clear I had no intention of being your exotic pet?”

“Funny you call it that. I have several exotic pets waiting at home to make your acquaintance. I’m sure you’d make great friends with those people of Kara-Tur. At least they know to appreciate the usefulness of money.” I simply glared and looked past him for an escape.

The guard that had been holding me piped up. “Lord Dorn, I think the girl’s acquaintance will be searching for her anytime soon…”

“Quiet. I won’t leave until I have this miscreant accept my offer.”

I spat in his face.

He slapped me across the face. It hurt, but I heard him yelp out.

“You insolent wench!” Dorn was holding his hand, gazing at the blood that was welling up from his fingertips. He must have cut himself with my crystals. 

I forced out a laugh. “Don’t they ever tell you not to lay a hand on another?” 

His face contorted with rage, and his voice was icy cold when he commanded his guardsman. “Dispose of her. She clearly has no desire to continue living, the way she is acting.” He pointed to the trough in front of the pigpen. “Throw her there, so she can drown like the pig she is.”

The guard seemed to hesitate. Dorn sneered. “Don’t forget what happens when you don’t listen to me. You wouldn’t want your dear family to suffer because you didn’t follow my orders, would you?”

The trough was filled with muddy water. With sudden force, I was pushed off my feet, and my face was thrusted into the water. Surprised as I was, I couldn’t help swallowing a mouthful of muddy water. The taste of it lay bitter on my tongue. I held my breath, but could barely keep down the need to cough out the mud. Suddenly, the force on my head was removed and I could lift my face out of the water. As I sat, doubled-over, coughing the mud water out of my lungs, I heard Lureene’s voice. No!

“What are you doing? Let her go this instant!” Lureene’s voice burst across the walls of the shack.

“Tch. The fisher’s daughter. Leave this place immediately! This conversation does not concern you.” Dorn’s voice was insistent, but Lureene didn’t mind him and walked my direction.

“This seems more like an attempt at assault than a conversation. Have you no shame?” I raised my hand and held it out to Lureene. She went to grab it, but Dorn slapped her arm away. 

“Do not meddle,” he spat out, as if expecting her to turn away at those words. Instead, she shoved him away. 

Suddenly, she yelped. Through hazy eyes, I could make out Lureene, pinned against the wall, Dorn’s hands clenching around her neck. Her eyes rolled backwards and he dropped her to the ground.

“I’ll have to use Min Chao to modify this one’s memory.” His gaze turned back to me. He addressed his guard. “Finish your job, will you.”

I was once more shoved face first into the water trough, though I knew to hold my breath beforehand know. I tried struggling against the hands holding me under, but it was useless. Before long, I stopped moving, hoping the guard would deem me dead, or at least unconscious so I could drown on my own in the water. When the pressure of the hands disappeared, I didn’t dare look up. After a long five minutes, I raised my head from the trough. I was alone. I sighed in relief, before realisation dawned on me.

Lureene…

\---

I returned to the inn as quickly as I could, clothes and hair muddy, cheeks streaked with tears. Helm heard me arrive and smiled jovially, before he took in how I looked. His face bent in concern. Between sobs, I managed to explain what had happened over the past few days. Helm proposed we presented my problem to Myra and Wyndel. The local nobility was held in high esteem in Cormyr, so we could not blatantly accuse Dorn Alsevir.

I worried my troubles would bring Helm in even more discredit with Wyndel, but Helm quickly shushed me.

“Don’t worry about that. Myra said she will take care of it. And with that, Wyndel will be unable to refuse a request from her.”

I wondered what must have happened in Myra and Helm’s past for them to form such a bond. Whatever problem arose, Myra would take care of it. Then again, it felt nice to be able to rely on a person as strong as Myra. Right now, I felt more powerless than I ever had before.

Reports came in the following day about Lureene. She had been brought in by a couple of Purple Dragons, who had found her unconscious in an alleyway near the port. I rushed towards her house, Helm and Myra in tow, hoping to see her alive and well.

A knock, and the door was opened. Purple bruises circled around her neck like a grotesque necklace, a mocking remainder of her misfortune.

Not a single sign of recognition on her face. She frowned slightly, and added in a cautious tone; “Can I help you with something?”

“I…” My voice clenched in my throat. “I was worried about you…”

“Sorry, but do I know you?” Her voice was devoid of emotion, and it struck me then that her memories really had been modified. For once, the truth was too difficult to say. 

“I’m… sorry. I must have the wrong person…” I lied. She nodded shortly, and closed the door as quickly as she could. I stood in front of it, silently staring ahead. It was only when Myra, for the umpteenth time in the past tenday, laid a hand on my shoulder that I snapped back to the present.

“What will we do now?” I wondered. Would my word be enough against that of a local noble?

“We can try and find a healer to undo the spell,” Helm suggested. However, when the cleric was told about Min Chao being the possible witch that enchanted her, he hesitated.

“I’m sorry to say, but most people we try to heal will either go mad or forgot everything. The magic of Kara-Tur is quite different than what we are used to. We could try and hope for the best, but…”

“No! No, that would only hurt her… I’d rather she lives without knowing me than she’d suffer more because of me.” I felt hollow inside, but I couldn’t force Lureene through that.

“Who knows, Wyndel might have some good news for us,” Helm tried.

But Wyndel came bearing even worse news. “Dorn has noticed you are still alive. He has started spinning a tale that you lured Lureene just so you could assault her, and he managed to save the day just in time by knocking you out before you could strangle her. So far, only the House Crownsilver is openly skeptic about his words, but the Crownsilvers hate the Alsevirs for buying their way to the top, so their disbelief is less seen as disbelief towards his claim, more so towards him in general. I will try to use my position to sway the council but for now… I’m afraid it would be best to leave the city.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does anybody ever have an excuse for posting late? like, waaaaaaaaay late? i sure didn't. sorry  
> also, you've been introduced to the clockwork finch! the title has an origin now! yay!  
> Siliva's race, air genasi, enables her to hold her breath indefinitely as long as she's conscious, so i didn't give her superpowers or something by making her hold her breath for 5+ minutes  
> if anybody's interested, Myra's a warlock with the Great Old One as a patron, so the spells she used to lift those garlands were Telekinesis and Mage Hand  
> i try to write this BGS as canon-compatible as possible, so honestly half of the time spent writing this thing is researching DnD books, the forgotten realms wiki, spellbooks... i'd say i have too much time to spend, but i really don't... i just wanna be correct, man  
> speaking of canon-compatible, Wyndel is an actual character from the forgotten realms - his complete name is Wyndel Sedranis. i kind of like how i wrote him, though since i don't have the books he was originally mentioned in i have no idea if that is how he is portrayed (that is, if he is actually portrayed in a certain way, and not simply mentioned). i wanted to do more with him, but i felt kind of restricted because he is, like i said, an actual canon-compliant character. can't play around with those too much.


End file.
